


Dear Journal, Happy New Year

by CatherineSarah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diary/Journal, Humour, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Romance, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineSarah/pseuds/CatherineSarah
Summary: Draco Malfoy wants this terrible year to end. Why does he feel like it never will?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48
Collections: Fanatical Fam's: Holiday Fic Exchange





	Dear Journal, Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wellwick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wellwick/gifts).



> This was written for Wellwick as part of the Fanatical Fam's Holiday Fic Exchange. Wellwick, I hope you enjoy it.  
> Merry Christmas.

11 October 1998

My name is Draco Malfoy.

Headmistress McGonagall has given me a journal since I am “somewhat socially isolated at present” and I need to “explore my feelings”. I’m sure I’ll make soooo much use of it, but I must appear to write as she is sat across the room and watching me.

Please stop watching me. Please stop watching me. Writing writing writing.

Oh great, now Potter is also watching me. Stop watching me, Potter! Why is he smiling at me? Am I about to fall victim to some horrible prank?

… Not yet, it seems.

Potter’s been acting very strange this term. Potty, potty pothead. All people ever do is talk about the ‘saviour’ – get a new topic, right?

Although reading this, maybe I should get a new topic…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

14 November 1998

Shit, I forgot to use this. McGonagall will have my head.

Dear journal,

I’m not sure what to write. My workload is a lot, but interesting. Potter is still chatty and it’s weird. Will make a better attempt to discuss feelings later.

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25 December 1998

Dear journal,

Merry Christmas.

As always, the food was wonderful and the Hall was glittering, but I can’t say I feel particularly festive this year, given that it was the year from absolute hell and I’m still somewhat of a pariah in this school. Well, the entirety of Wizarding society. Like I said, feeling very festive today…

Besides, I’m not sure if I’d feel any cheerier at home. I am yet to convince Mum to sell the wretched place and move, and while I am glad to spend the least time possible at the Manor these days, I am still stung a little that my mother would rather be sunning herself in Costa Rica than spend Christmas with me.

She did still remember to send along a gift with Ulysses though – although rather an odd one. A platinum chain inset with emeralds and rubies (how festive), inscribed with the words ‘beatitudo exolvuntur’ – or _cycle of happiness_ in Latin, if I am not mistaken. Mother was awfully insistent that I should be alone when I open the parcel, something to do with finicky magic, but I am not entirely sure why since it didn’t do much of note. It flashed brightly once and then- nothing! Maybe I’m just too bloody festive for the happy necklace!

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the most bizarre turn of the day! Potter – of golden-boy-who-lived-twice-and-also-saved-my-life-twice acclaim – gave me a gift. A gift. A cashmere jumper, emerald green. A rather expensive one too, if I’m not mistaken. Maybe I’ll wear it with my new necklace… Ha!

Actual gift aside, Potter held a civil, if somewhat awkward, conversation with me about my family’s Christmas plans. Yes, I know! I thought it might be some sort of trick but if so, the punchline has yet to reveal itself to me. He seemed sincere, if misguided (considering he assisted in landing my father in Azkaban). I know this isn’t the first time wonderboy has tried to initiate conversation this term – not to mention the wonderfully awkward encounters when he spoke at my trial and his returning my wand (I’m still surprised they didn’t want it framed in a museum somewhere) – but I can’t believe he won’t at some point remember our rather tumultuous past and want to get one up on me, and the longer this goes on, the more garrulous he gets. All very strange.

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27th December 1999

Dear journal,

Potter et al spent this entire evening roping the other eighth years into the planning of, to quote the poet Weasley, “an absolute banger of a New Year’s Eve party” to “toast goodbye to the worst year of our lives”. I’ll drink to that.

I, for one, kept to my chair in the corner and took no part in this conversation. I have done my utmost to avoid social interaction this term. I have kept my head down, my mouth shut, my seating distanced. Why then, do you suppose, that the saviour himself would chase my down when their pow wow had convened to confirm my attendance to said party and insist it “wouldn’t be the same without me there”? I feel he must have had some serious knocks in the war – he seems to be forgetting that we not once attended a common room party together and he wouldn’t normally want to.

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31 December 1998

Dear journal,

Today was dreadful. I will be very much glad to see the back of this annus horribilis.

I slept appalling – dreams of running out through a door only to be back in the same room I started in – and awoke to Longbottom’s snoring, to which I will never acclimatise. Thomas loudly singing some muggle tune about a ‘dancing queen’ in the shower did not make for an ideal morning either.

At breakfast, I somehow ended up soaked in a first year’s pumpkin juice because he was too giddy and tripped.

After I’d washed up, Lavender Brown cornered me in the common room and insisted I sit for a tarot reading. Despite my hatred of the divine arts and the fact that her facial scarring seemed not to have deterred her confidence one bit, the guilt of knowing why she had it forced me to oblige - five of wands. Apparently, there is a tension or rivalry in my life that I need to address to move forward. Go figure.

After lunch, Lovegood somehow found her way into our common room and challenged me to a game of Wizard’s chess, in which I beat her terribly. Much as is the case with Potter, I had been perplexed as to why she is so amiable with me – however, today I was enlightened. When she shook my hand at the game’s close, she proceeded to ask if I would be interested in going on a date with her. A date. With Luna imprisoned-in-my-basement-for-months Lovegood. I am ashamed to say in my shock, I was absolutely speechless – and to my horror my only reaction was to bark out a panicked laugh and bolt from the room.

I am currently hiding in the library, as I have been all afternoon. I am delaying the inevitable return to my common room, where the blasted New Year’s Eve party is in full swing. I plan to simply keep my head down, get to my room, and spend the evening reading in my bed.

I did hear that an owl shat on Weasley’s head whilst he was flying though – I do regret not having a chance to comment on that, but I believe this to be the best decision overall. Wish me luck.

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1 January 1999

Dear journal,

Good morning and a Happy New Year. I felt I should provide my account of last night since I left you before my day was through yesterday.

Unfortunately, my plan to sneak through the party and spend the evening reading did not go to plan. Weasley Jr ambushed me in the middle of the party, yelling at how Lovegood had been humiliated by my ‘refusal’ – that’s a nice word for laughing and running – and refused to come to the party.

I’m not even sure how it happened, but at some point, this inevitably resulted in Potter and myself exchanging heated words and ultimately, I am quite sure that Potter might have punched me in the face. However, he must’ve been quite drunk as there isn’t a mark on my face this morning.

Despite my just saying it was inevitable, I must confess that we have been at the point of cordiality this last month and I was surprised ~~and disappointed~~ to find myself at odds with Potter once more.

This morning, I yet again woke to the aggressive symphony of Longbottom’s sinus problems and Thomas’ warbling about a rhythmically inclined monarch. Let us hope that the rest of the day, and the year, is an improvement on the preceding one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~~1 January 1999~~ 31 December?

Dear journal,

Something is wrong.

I thought it just was a wearisome coincidence when the same first year Ravenclaw spilled his pumpkin juice on me again at breakfast – a foreboding sign from the universe that this year would be no better than the last. But it was a much greater coincidence that Finnigan would tell the same joke across the hall as he did yesterday, and everyone would laugh again despite it never being that funny in the first place. That Granger would wear the same gaudy periwinkle jumper two days in a row is very confounding indeed.

I was quite concerned when Brown once again asked me sit for a reading and once again, drew the five of wands. For variety, I asked for a second card – The Wheel of Fortune. Apparently, I am “living in a cycle or rut” and must “find a way to break free”. Marvellous! Brown might be have a talent for divination after all, but unfortunately I am not entirely comforted by that notion at present.

I tried my best to NOT FREAK OUT at this point, but it was terribly difficult. When I saw Lovegood enter the common room, I will be honest and admit that I grabbed my bag and scarpered before a conversation could even be initiated. If I can avoid being hit again tonight, much the better.

I am back in the library, and by Merlin’s beard, I think I’m losing it. Apparently today is 31st December 1998… again. I could swear Madame Pince nearly burst a blood vessel when I asked for today’s Prophet five times and five times she gave me the one dated New Year’s Eve, turning incrementally redder in the face each time.

In the interest of NOT FREAKING OUT, I am going for a walk around the lake – perhaps scream into the highlands for a time – and then I will return to research exactly what the fuck is going on and how to escape.

Maybe Potter hit me harder than I thought last night (tonight?) Or maybe yesterday was a prophetic dream and 1999 is the year I become a seer. I’ll report back.

-

Today is most definitely the same day as yesterday. Whilst walking around the lake and NOT FREAKING OUT, I happened upon a distraught Weasley with a rather large dollop of owl excrement on his shoulder. If today were any other day than today/yesterday, I’d exclaim it a wonderful day. Unfortunately, this only confirms that I am back in yesterday.

Going to library NOW!

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31st December 1998 – day 3

Dear journal,

Still NYE – Longbottom snored. Thomas sang and I now know all the words. I managed to sit elsewhere and the juice was spilt on Amanda Betteridge instead.

However, yesterday’s research proved fruitful. As it transpires, _MYYY MOTHER_ is the one to blame for this! In my research, I came across ‘Time-Altering Trinkets and Ten Ways to Tackle Them’. Dusty old thing – can’t have been opened in a century. But lo and behold, I come across my new accessory.

_Monili Fortuna (Necklace of Fate) is a cursed necklace which traps the recipient in a time loop until such time that they find their path of true happiness._

_Although the magic within this artefact is not entirely clear, we have deduced from anecdotal evidence that the time loop will initiate at the ‘ideal time’ and is independent from the date of acquisition. Therefore, should you find yourself stuck in said time loop, we recommend that you try new things – the solution is within the cycle._

Which, given that I had a god-awful day on the FIRST 31st, means I might need to change everything to escape. But what exactly about this New Year’s Eve could trigger my happiest timeline? This brings up more questions than answers.

I went to the NYE party last night, since it may well hold the key to my temporal freedom. After an almost charming display of poor conversational skill, in which Potter nervously enquired as to my favourite flavour of every flavour beans and then spent the next 5 minutes babbling about how he thinks it may snow tonight, the remainder of my evening involved watching as he got plastered and trying not to see him make out with multiple people. I found it bizarrely uncomfortable, if I am quite frank; I have decided to retire to bed before midnight to prevent the image of an entwined Potter and Abbot becoming burned into my retinas. I can only assume, therefore, that this is not my happiest timeline and I shall speak to you again this morning. My head hurts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

31st December 1998 – day 4

Dear journal,

I have horrifying news. I think I know ‘the path of my happiest timeline’. However:

  1. It is INSANE and I don’t think I could achieve it with 600 attempts
  2. It took assistance from Hermione Granger to realise it and my pride is wounded



I woke. Longbottom snored. Thomas sang. I sat farther down the table, and was able to catch the first year before he tripped – he proceeded to sit beside me and talk my ear off. I’d wish I’d let him fall. Apparently, he is called Kamal.

Then I decided I might as well have a bit of fun if I’ll be here a while. I anticipated the inevitable invitation by Brown and sat at her table before she could ask – her look of confusion was oh so brilliant – and again, she drew me the five of wands.

Alas, I am Icarus and I have flown too close to the sun. It was at this point, as I made my way to the Great Hall for luncheon, that Granger of all people dragged me into an empty classroom. She was suspicious that I was meddling with a time turner because I had been too expectant of the falling first year and Brown’s fortune telling, amongst other minutiae. I wouldn’t usually trouble myself with such ludicrous accusations, but I figured that if Granger was indeed bright enough to identify my time issue, she might actually be of some use in solving it. And besides, nobody would remember my asking her for help in 24 hours anyway.

Journal, I am horrified as you are about to be, but Granger and I have come to the conclusion that, as bloody unlikely as it seems, I may have developed… feelings for wonderboy. Yes, you read that right. I would turn myself into St Mungo’s now if Granger hadn’t been there to give me a detailed prognosis, including but not limited to:

  * My five of wands – ‘rivalry’ might point to my colourful history with Potter
  * My ability to recount Potter’s whereabouts and any encounters we’ve had since the start of term
  * My spending 10 minutes of my recapping my state of affairs to her describing his various NYE hook-ups and how each person was ill-suited to him
  * I “smiled like a fool” (her words, not mine) when she suggested that he may be crushing in return



By the time we’d finished in the library and arrived at the party, however, he was sucking face with Abbot… again!

And so, you see my dilemma. I cannot conceive of a path in which Potter kisses me, ergo I am stuck here for eternity. Granger suggests that I am a pessimistic arse, and that I might as well try since it’s all negligible anyway should I fail.

(Granger also said we’d make a cute couple. I disagree. We’d be bloody gorgeous.)

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31st December 1998 – attempt 5

Dear journal,

Today is _Operation: Get Potter To Kiss Me_.

On Day One, my main issue was a fight with Potter, which was triggered by my wounding Lovegood’s pride. Today we played chess and I politely declined the invitation, which she took in good stead. All was going well.

I chatted to Potter throughout the party, but no window for kissing occurred – until Abbot wrangled him shortly before midnight. I need to get in there earlier tomorrow (today?).

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31st December 1998 – attempt 6

Dear journal,

I had a plan. A simple one. A festive one. A fool-proof one.

I skipped every usual milestone of my day and spent the day formulating my brilliant plan.

I went to the party wearing my best leather pants and irresistible Malfoy charm. I struck up conversation with Potter about quidditch and he was engaged. I charmed some mistletoe above our heads – it was going perfectly! But obviously right then, Potter decided to fetch us drinks, and when I was alone, Lovegood came over. The mistletoe was still growing, and obviously she noticed, and obviously since I didn’t let her down earlier, she kissed me! I stopped the kiss immediately, but obviously that’s when Potter comes back and obviously, Potter saw, and he looked like a kicked puppy. He left the party and today goes down as a failure.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

31st December 1998 – attempt 7

Dear journal,

Decided to just go for it. I found Potter getting some air by the window and made a beeline for him. Unfortunately, in my haste, I tripped on the rug and headbutted his cup, covering him in butterbeer, before crashing into a suit of armour which landed squarely on top of him.

Luna says the nargles will be thrilled at the show; Potter was not. I was mortified. Will try again tomorrow (today?).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

31st December 1998 – attempt 8

Accidentally pushed Potter from window. Hiding in cupboard. Pray to Merlin that this is not happiest timeline as it will involve time in Azkaban.

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31st December 1998 – attempt 9

Dear journal,

I bloody well did it. I went about it calmly to avoid the defenestration of any saviours. I was my most charming self all day.

Sat with the other eighth Year’s at breakfast and engaged in banter and everything.

And then this evening at the party, I kissed him! It wasn’t exactly as magical as I’d hoped but if it gets me to tomorrow, we can try again later.

I am giddy with relief. Goodnight. See you in 1999!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

31st December 1998 – attempt 10

Dear journal,

I did not do it. Upon reflection, it appears that my quip to Finnigan at breakfast about looking as daft as Potter today had reminded him of a some Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes prototype Halloween sweet that glamours the eater as ‘famous celebrity Harry Potter’ for 10 minutes. And I fell for it; I kissed Finnigan of all people.

It has been over a week and I have tried everything. So today, I decided to throw myself at the problem Potter-style:

Awoke to snores. I actually sang along with Thomas, the song being stuck in my head for the past 216 hours – Potter found this hilarious and also joined in, as did Finnigan, Finch-Fletchley and Macmillan. We were all clutching our sides and crying with laughter by the end of the performance; I haven’t laughed that hard since I was 13.

I grabbed Kamal’s sleeve and the juice was saved. Over breakfast, we discussed his interest in potions and what he’d received for Christmas. Sweet kid.

I sat for Brown and requested a three-card spread today:

  * Five of wands (shock)
  * The Wheel of Fortune (who’d have guessed?)
  * And The Fool – which is new! Apparently symbolises new beginnings (ha! Good luck, Draco)



I ate lunch with my peers and, being in good spirits, actually enjoyed it – plus the food tasted better today! Beef wellington, honey-roasted parsnips, fluffy potatoes… the elves outdid themselves.

I played Lovegood at chess. Good game – she beat me, but it was close. We shook hands amiably and I politely declined her offer of a romantic date, but counter-offered a friendly trip to the Three Broomsticks which she accepted. No hearts were hurt, no kisses shall be given, and no punches shall be thrown.

Weasley found himself invested and I played with him too. We actually managed to stay civil. He and Potter invited me to flying together with their group a little later, and he avoided the bird incident. Potter put his arm around me on the walk to the changing rooms (he put his other arm around Weasley, but I don’t care. It felt good.)

It all went wonderfully. I even wore the new Potter jumper and I look bloody great. But somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that this will all be for nought again and so, can’t quite bring myself to go to the party tonight. I suppose I may as well get an early night, since I can try again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that…

I think tomor-

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, why aren’t you at the party? I missed you out there.”

Harry’s head poked around the ajar door and raised an eyebrow at Draco, who was writing in a journal with a soft scowl on his face.

“I’m sure you did,” Draco drawled, closing the book and looking up to meet those earnest green eyes.

“I did!” Harry moved across the room and perched himself on the edge of Draco’s bed.

“That jumper looks nice on you, by the way... You seem down, but I thought we’d had a good day? And you promised me a dance, remember.”

“I most certainly did not!” exclaimed Draco, sitting forward suddenly.

Harry smirked – leaning in to whisper. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure you agreed to the terms of our race earlier – ‘dance with me at the party tonight’ – or are you backing down?”

“Is that what you said?! We were flying at 50 miles an hour so I was lipreading – I thought you said ‘France trip on Malfoy next year’. I’d rather pay for your holiday,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes rather too dramatically to emphasise his point.

“Well, I’ll let you take me to Paris too, but first I want that dance. You seem different today - you've actually been talking to people and you were SO sweet with that little kid - and..." Harry practically blushed, "and I like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be different again tomorrow but don’t hold your breath, Potter…” said Draco with a sigh.

“I won’t have to wait long, it’s almost midnight.” As Harry finished his sentence, fireworks exploded outside the dorm room window to punctuate his point. He leaned forward and softly put his lips to Draco’s for just a second.

When Harry pulled away with a goofy grin on his face, Draco had a moment of shock, his eyes flashing quickly between the fireworks outside, Harry’s lips and his watch. It was midnight. No, it was past midnight, and he was here with Harry – and Harry had kissed him at the turn of New Year’s Day!

Harry stood and extended his hand to Draco. “Hey, lets get back to the party. I still want that dance. I’ll see if they have ABBA?”

Draco looked down to his watch again. It was 12.03am on New Year’s Day. Draco’s face broke into an equally goofy grin, feeling delighted, relieved, and exhausted all of a sudden.

“One moment, I just have to finish my journal entry,” whispered Draco, as he reached across Harry to grab the notebook from his nightstand.

As he wrote, he read aloud: “1st January 1999. Dear Journal, Happy New Year.”


End file.
